


we'll find a way to go home (star bright, your light)

by thylionheart



Series: if my heart was a house, you'd be home [2]
Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018), Kairos (O'Keefe) Series - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: Abusive Father, Anxiety, Child Neglect, Crying, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Middle School, Post-Movie, Sequel, Verbal Abuse, fine i'll just tag it as fluff too, idk if there's enough fluff in this to actually tag it as fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14694495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylionheart/pseuds/thylionheart
Summary: Meg gets a call from Calvin asking for her help.*not a standalone*





	we'll find a way to go home (star bright, your light)

**Author's Note:**

> So...I didn't expect to write a sequel to my other fic, but after I published it this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I meant for this to be shorter than the original, but clearly that didn't work out either. This has the potential to be standalone, but it makes more sense if you've read the first.
> 
> I included references to Calvin's mother in this fic and not in my first because I wasn't sure if his mother was in his life in the movie universe while writing the original. After publishing that fic, I read Calvin's passage in the "A Wrinkle in Time: A Guide to the Universe" book and learned more about his mother. Most of my characterization of her, however, is my own speculation. Additionally, I know that the O'Keefes are poor in the books; however, in this same book, it reveals that in movie-verse canon, the O'Keefe's are well off and that his home is formal and cold. I have decided to follow the movie's canon in that respect.
> 
> One part of this story is an homage to a scene in the book where Calvin takes off Meg's glasses. That part is simply too cute to forget.
> 
> *11/26/18* I actually updated where exactly Kate picks Calvin up, because I hadn't selected the street where Calvin lives (mostly for my own reference) until several fics after this one. After I chose where he lives, I double checked and realized that my original location was not only a 25 minute walk from Calvin's house, but he'd've had to pass the Murry house simply to get to that spot, so the entire ordeal would've been counterintuitive. Now, the place she picks him up is only a 3 minute walk away from his house. This update is mostly for my own sanity, lol.
> 
> The title is from the song Origin Earth by Barclay James Harvest.

“Watch out, sunny LA—another round of thunderstorms will be rolling through the city throughout the rest of this Sunday evening and well into the start of the week.”

The TV screen flickered to display a daily forecast dotted with angry little storm clouds. Meg shifted on the couch, her English homework nearly sliding off her lap. She caught it before it fell and frowned at the crumpled papers.

English was Meg’s least favorite subject, and assignments like this one were exactly why she despised it so. How was she supposed to know what the mouse’s maze in _Flowers for Algernon_ symbolized? And even if she thought she knew, how could she be sure that her answer was the same as the author’s, or the teacher’s, or even her other classmates’? That was the problem with English, Meg thought sullenly. There were multiple answers, multiple perspectives. In math, the answers, more often than not, were clear and defined, and never dictated by human emotion or opinion. Two plus two always equaled four, no matter the sentiments of the person adding them together.

Across the room, Charles Wallace yawned loudly. Colored pencils covered the coffee table and he was scrupulously outlining a new drawing in his sketchbook. Meg rolled her eyes. He had been the one to put on the news, and now he wasn’t even watching.  


The TV switched back to a brightly dressed anchor with dull eyes. “Tune in later tonight for a more detailed forecast. This has been KTLA 5 News at six.”

A sudden sharp ringing caused both Murry children to jump. On the end table next to the couch Meg's cell phone was buzzing insistently, the screen lit up to display, in large letters, a single word: UNKNOWN.

Meg sighed and reached over to end the call. She never answered unknown callers; most of them were either spam calls or telemarketers, and she had learned that it was best to simply hang up without a second thought.

“Don’t!”

Meg jerked her hand away from her phone and stared at Charles Wallace, who had jumped to his feet and was watching her with wide eyes. She looked between him and her phone, bewildered.  


“Answer it,” said Charles Wallace. “You need to answer it.”

His voice trembled urgently, filling Meg with a cold unease. Slowly she lifted her phone and pressed the glowing green button. “Hello?”  


“Meg?”

  


* * *

“Calvin?”  


The boy slumped against the side of the payphone and sighed with relief. Around him, rain slapped the sidewalk and thunder nearly drowned out his voice. “Yes, yes, it’s me, it’s Calvin.”

“Is everything okay? Where are you calling from?”

“A payphone near my house,” Calvin replied. “And, um, no. No, I need—I need help.

“Help? What do you mean?”

“I need a, uh, a place to stay tonight.”

There was a shuffling sound and he heard Meg’s voice in the background calling for her mother. A muffled conversation ensued. Then the line crackled and a new voice spoke. “Calvin? It’s Kate. Where are you  _exactly_?”

“I’m—I’m next to the library on the corner of Cimarron and West Adams. Right next to the bus stop.”

"William Andrews Clark?"

"Yeah."

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Stay exactly where you are, honey. I’ll be right there.”  


The line clicked dead. With a shuddering breath, Calvin put the receiver back on the hook. He grabbed his backpack and quickly ducked into the nearby bus stop to escape the pouring rain. His damp hair hung in his eyes in thick clumps and his cold clothes clung to his skin. Lightning flashed in the sky above and he shivered.  


Only three minutes had passed when the Murrys’ car pulled up to the curb. Reaching across the cab, Dr. Kate opened the passenger door and called his name. Calvin didn’t waste any time scrambling into the car and slamming the door behind him. The soothing warmth blasting from the heater enveloped him and he let out a thankful sigh.

“Oh Calvin, you’re soaked!” Dr. Kate exclaimed.

Guilt seized Calvin and he stuttered out an apology. But Dr. Kate waved him off. “The last thing I care about right now is my car’s upholstery. What happened tonight, Calvin?”

His hands fisted in the drenched fabric of his backpack and he clenched his jaw. “He came home drunk. My dad. He didn’t hurt me, but...”

“You didn’t feel safe,” Dr. Kate finished for him.

Calvin nodded. “As soon as I got the chance I grabbed my backpack and left, but he took away my phone yesterday after I got a B-minus on my Algebra test. That’s why I used the payphone.”

“You made the right decision in calling, Calvin. You’re more than welcome to spend the night. Have you had dinner?”

“N-No.”

“Do you like lasagna? My husband made some earlier this evening. We have plenty left over.”

Calvin’s throat burned. He focused on the journey of a single raindrop sliding down the window and blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Murry.”

She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, casting him a soft smile.

When they arrived at the Murry home, Meg was waiting for them on the stoop, wearing a windbreaker and fleece pajama bottoms. Calvin left the car and ran through the cold and the rain until he had reached the safety of the porch. Dr. Kate followed close behind.

Once he had reached the porch, Meg stepped in front of him and searched his face, her eyes flooded with worry. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call me on your cell? Did—“

“Let the boy inside  _before_  you interrogate him, Meg,” her mother chided her. “It’s miserable out here.”

Meg tugged at the pull-string of her jacket and chewed her lip. “Right, right, sorry.”  


Then suddenly she threw her arms around Calvin, completely ignoring the fact that he was still soaking wet. He stumbled back a step, caught off guard, then returned her embrace.

“You scared me,” Calvin barely heard her whisper over the heavy rain. “You really scared me.”

He pressed his cheek against her temple. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Kids, come on,” Dr. Kate called. She had stepped inside and was holding the door open for them. “You’re going to catch cold!”

As she spoke, the wind picked up and sent a blast of damp air sweeping through the porch. Calvin and Meg pulled apart with simultaneous shivers, and together they rushed out of the raw, gusty night and into the comfort of the Murry home.

  


* * *

An hour later, Calvin sat at the kitchen table devouring a plate of lasagna. His hair was sticking up every which way and his skin was pink from a fresh hot shower. Dr. Alex had given him a pair of plaid pajama pants and Meg had lent him her grey NASA hoodie that, while oversized on her, fit him quite nicely. Even if it had turned out to be a bit snug, Calvin wouldn’t have minded; it smelled like her, like her skin and her hair, all lavender and rosemary and wonderfully  _her_.

Next to him sat Charles Wallace, grinning gleefully. “I’ve never had a sleepover before! This is stupendous! That’s my new word for the day,  _stupendous_. It’s such a terrifically fantastic word, don’t you think? Dad looked it up for me this morning, but I haven’t had use for it until now.”

Calvin nodded, only half listening. He hadn’t eaten since that morning—two measly slices of buttered toast and a glass of orange juice—and Dr. Alex’s lasagna filled his belly with an appeasing warmth. In truth, the entire home filled him with warmth. The lights cast a cozy orange luster across every surface. Books and cosmopolitan baubles cluttered the shelves while Charles Wallace’s drawings decorated the fridge. On the windowsills grew leafy green plants, and patterned blankets and cushions added charming splashes of color.

It was such a stark contrast to the stiff, unwelcoming atmosphere of the O’Keefe home. His mother hated knickknacks—“dust collectors”, she called them—and all of their picture frames hosted diplomas, degrees, and certificates. No family photos, no baby pictures—just record upon record of the family’s myriad accomplishments. The entire house felt cold and clinical; the walls and carpet were ivory white, as was the furniture. Everything was clean lines and sharp edges, formal and austere. The only place in his entire home where Calvin felt comfortable was his bedroom. But even then, nothing compared to the comfort of the Murry home.

Just as Calvin finished his dinner, Meg walked into the room, Dr. Alex on her heels. Hastily he ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out until it laid flat.

Dr. Alex clapped his hands together. “I just set up the sleeping bag in Charles Wallace’s room.” He had a smile plastered across his face and his tone was light, but his brow was pinched together in the same way Meg’s did whenever she was worried.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry I—“

“Nah, don’t apologize,” Dr. Alex insisted, patting him on the shoulder. He picked up Calvin’s empty plate and brought it to the sink. “You have nothing to be sorry for, kiddo.”

Before turning on the water, Meg’s father flicked on the radio. An old Coldplay song began playing—“Yellow”, Calvin realized after a moment—and Dr. Alex hummed along. Charles Wallace stood and ran over to Meg, grabbing her hands and tugging her away from where she had been hovering in the doorway. She laughed when he started dancing and twirled him around, singing along softly to the music.

It was such a humbly endearing scene—brother and sister dancing hand-in-hand in the middle of the kitchen while their father bobbed his head up and down to the beat—that all at once Calvin felt overcome with an oddly wistful feeling, not unlike homesickness. His chest ached with longing and his throat constricted painfully. When his eyes swelled with tears he stood up. The chair scraped unceremoniously against the floor, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

Meg’s smile lapsed into a worried frown. “Cal?”

“U-Um,” Calvin stuttered, fumbling for something to say. “Uh, where’s your washroom?”

He knew exactly where the washroom was, but before Meg could point this out Charles Wallace spoke up. “I’ll show you. And after we can go upstairs and get this sleepover started!”

Calvin nodded. “Thanks, little guy.” Glancing at Meg, he saw that she was watching him with a concerned frown. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he could tell it wasn’t convincing by the way she shifted her weight and crossed her arms.  


Charles Wallace took his hand and led him out of the kitchen to the washroom. Inside, Calvin splashed cool water on his face until the urge to cry abated. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few heartbeats before taking a deep breath and opening the door. Charles Wallace was waiting for him, and together they went upstairs to Charles Wallace’s bedroom.  


For the next hour, the two boys hung out. Calvin read books aloud to Charles Wallace and together they reminisced about their adventure around the universe. It was nearing eight o’clock when Charles Wallace sat up from where he had been reclining, his sketchbook in his lap.

“Hey, Calvin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your home life.”

Calvin tensed. When he spoke he tried to sound calm, but his voice came out strained. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do. You just don’t wanna tell me about it. I understand.” When Calvin gave him a bewildered and rather distressed look, Charles Wallace shook his head. “No, no one told me. But I was in the Happy Medium’s cave, remember? I saw the way your father treated you in that vision. And there’s a reason you’re sleeping at our house tonight and not your own. Moreover, Meg was really stressed after your phone call earlier. She wouldn’t stop pacing.”

Guilt needled Calvin, and he chewed the inside of his lip. He hadn’t meant to scare Meg, and the more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

Charles Wallace continued. “You don’t have to tell me the details, but I wanted you to know that you don’t have to tiptoe around me. Just because I’m young, doesn’t mean I’m not observant. And I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Calvin didn’t know what to say. So instead he wrapped an arm around Charles Wallace and gave him a hug, one the younger boy eagerly returned. “Thanks, buddy. I’m sorry for trying to hide it from you, and for any worry I caused.”

Charles Wallace pulled away and shook his finger in Calvin’s face. “You need to _stop_ apologizing for everything. You keep putting burdens on yourself that you don’t have to bear.”

All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. Charles Wallace called for whoever it was to enter, and Meg peeked into the room.

“Hey guys. Mom wanted me to let you know that it’s time for lights out.”  


Her brother pouted a bit, but began clearing off his bed without much of a fuss. Meg and Calvin helped him put his books and drawing supplies away. After they finished, Charles Wallace crawled into bed and Meg came over to tuck him in. Calvin lingered at the foot of the bed as she kissed her brother on the forehead and whispered a goodnight that he echoed back softly. She turned off the lamp on his nightstand before looking up at Calvin.

Together they drifted over and met near the door. Meg tugged on the sleeve of her cardigan and peered up at him. “You don’t have to go to bed just yet if you don’t want. We could watch something downstairs, or just talk?”  


A small smile tugged at Calvin’s mouth. “That sounds really nice. But I think I should try to get some sleep. It’s…it’s been a long day.”

Meg nodded in understanding. Then, after a glance at Charles Wallace, she lowered her voice. “Are you…um, are you okay? You seemed upset earlier. In the kitchen.”

Calvin bit his lip, his gaze flickering down to study the carpet. “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just…I’ve always wanted a family like yours. And when I see you guys being so…so content, and happy…”

He didn’t finish. Outside, branches rattled against the window as the wind swept through the trees, filling the silence. The only light in the room shone from the desk lamp, enveloping half of their faces in light and half in shadow. Calvin’s hands were tucked into his hoodie pocket, and Meg stepped forward and slipped her hands inside the pocket to join his. Her fingers curled around Calvin’s, and he shifted so that their hands fit comfortably together. Calvin lifted his eyes from the floor and met her sympathetic gaze. She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t need to. He understood.

A soft knock at the door prompted Meg to pull her hands away and both of them to step apart. Immediately Calvin missed the warmth of her hands entwined with his. The door creaked open, and Dr. Alex peered inside. “Hi, kiddos. I just came in to say goodnight to my boy.”

As Dr. Alex moved to sit on Charles Wallace’s bed, Meg shifted self-consciously, pushing her glasses up farther on her nose and giving Calvin an apologetic smile. “Um, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight,” whispered Calvin, his voice heavy with reluctance.

Meg turned to leave, but then stopped and looked at her father, whose back was to them as he and Charles Wallace spoke in hushed voices. She hesitated for a moment, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed Calvin swiftly on the cheek. “Sweet dreams.”  


And then she was gone, the door clicking quietly shut behind her. Calvin touched the spot where she had kissed him and smiled.

  


* * *

 

Thunder shook the walls of the attic and a flurry of rain pattered against the window. Meg laid in bed, eyes open and staring at the hazy red glow of her alarm clock. She squinted, and slowly a string of blurry numbers came into focus.

1:37 AM.

Meg rubbed her eyes and moaned in frustration. She had been lying in bed for the past four hours, but her mind refused to rest. All that she could think about was Calvin.

Earlier, before her mother had shooed him upstairs to take a hot shower, Calvin had told her why he had left home that night. Rage had twisted Meg’s stomach to the point where she thought she might become sick. When he left to shower, Meg had run upstairs to her attic, away from the watchful eyes of her family, and cried hot, angry tears until she couldn’t cry anymore.  


It wasn’t fair. Calvin was the kindest, sweetest person she had ever met. He didn’t deserve an abusive drunk for a father. He didn’t deserve to feel unsafe in his own home.

Another rumble of thunder rattled the window, and Meg finally threw back her quilt and climbed out of bed. She unwrapped her hair—she had felt too drained earlier to braid it—and shook it out before grabbing her glasses and slipping them on. Her bare feet padded noisily across the creaky floor as she left her room and made her way down to the kitchen. If her mind wasn’t going to let her sleep, she might as well make some hot cocoa to try and soothe it.

The entire house was dark and quiet; everyone else had long gone to bed. Meg walked into the kitchen and switched on the lights, bathing the room in an auburn glow. Humming to herself, she grabbed the milk and a saucepan and switched on the stove. She poured a cup and a half of milk into the pan, then, deciding she’d better be prepared in case Charles Wallace came down, added nearly two cups more.

Just as Meg was taking the container of cocoa powder down from the cupboard, she heard a noise on the stairs. Shuffling footsteps made their way into the kitchen behind her, and she smiled to herself. “I was wondering whether you were gonna come down, Biscuits.”

“‘Biscuits?’”

Meg jumped and nearly dropped the cocoa powder. She turned and saw Calvin standing in the doorway, his face bright with amusement.

“I was expecting Charles Wallace,” Meg admitted sheepishly.

Calvin chuckled. “I figured. Couldn’t sleep?”

Meg shook her head. She picked at the cocoa label with her thumbnail distractedly.

Walking over to the stove, Calvin picked up a wooden spoon and began slowly stirring the milk. “Me neither. I’ve never been a big fan of thunderstorms.”

Meg set down the container and leaned against the island. “I used to be really scared of them when I was little. When the thunder woke me up I’d run down to my parents’ bedroom and climb into their bed. They’d grumble and tease me, but they’d always tuck me under the covers between them. My mom would sing to me until I fell asleep.”

Lightning flashed and briefly illuminated the kitchen with a haunting glow. Moments later thunder rolled, so deep and solemn Meg could feel it in her bones. When she looked at Calvin she saw that he had stopped stirring and was staring forward, eyes unfocused. His body had tensed, his grip on the wooden spoon so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

“I only tried that once,” Calvin said quietly. “The wind was howling louder than I’d ever heard it before. I was so scared, I tripped as I ran down the hall. But my dad got mad at me for waking him up. He called me a wimp, a baby, pushed me away and told me to grow a spine and go back to bed. I never went to him for comfort again.”

The milk had started to boil. Meg walked over to the stove and switched it off before moving the pot to a different burner. Then she pulled Calvin away from the stove and into a hug.

Calvin relaxed into her embrace with a sigh. They held each other for a few moments before Meg drew away and touched his cheek. “Do you want some hot cocoa? There’s more than enough.”

He nodded.

  


* * *

Nearly ten minutes later, they sat together on top of the island, sipping their cocoa in silence. Meg pensively traced the rim of her mug with her finger and pursed her lips before looking up at Calvin. “What’s gonna happen tomorrow? When your dad finds out you’re not home?”

“I, uh,” Calvin scratched the back of his neck, “I managed to slip a note under his briefcase that said I was going to school early for a study group. He’ll find it in the morning.”

Meg set down her mug and turned to him. “That’s...that’s really risky, Calvin. What if he gets mad that you didn’t ask permission? Or he finds the note tonight? Or he—“

“Meg, hey,” Calvin cut her off softly. Placing his mug behind him, he hopped off the island and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his own. “Listen, I...this isn’t the first time I’ve spent the night away from home without my dad knowing.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? How did you—where did you—?”

“I can’t...I can’t stand being in that house when he’s drunk. But he—he doesn’t get drunk very often, he really doesn’t.”

“Don’t defend him,” Meg said, frowning.

“I’m not, Meg, I just...I don’t want to scare you.”

Meg’s lips formed a small “o”. She brushed a freckle on his knuckle with her thumb restlessly.

Calvin continued. “My mom has to travel for her job, so she isn’t home a lot. Usually only about one week and a half, sometimes two weeks a month. My dad...he gets angrier when she’s gone. Lashes out more. And drinks. I think...I think maybe…” He stopped and bit his lip, a nagging suspicion on the tip of his tongue.

About six months ago, he’d come home to find his father in a terrible mood, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand. The sight of that particular brand had made an already scared Calvin terrified; his father normally opted for beer, and if he was drinking something as heavy as whiskey, it meant something had happened.

“Where’s Mom?” had been the first words Calvin dared to speak to his father. She was supposed to have been home that evening, but her purse hadn’t been hanging on the coat rack and her keys hadn’t been in the decorative glass tray she always placed them in.

He’d regretted opening his mouth immediately; his father’s drunken eyes had flashed with rage, and in a sudden and violent movement he’d thrown the whiskey bottle into the unlit marble fireplace with a roar. The bottle had shattered into a million glass shards, and one small sliver had flown across the room and stuck itself in Calvin’s arm. He’d fled to his room before his father could turn his fury on him. Later that night, his mom had come home, and though he heard no fight ensue, the next day an icy chill had settled between his parents.

That was the day Calvin first suspected his mother might be having an affair.

Meg’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Cal?”

He blinked. After a few more silent heartbeats, he shook his head with a sigh. He wasn’t ready to voice this concern, not even to Meg. Saying it aloud would make it real, and on top of everything that had happened in the past month, Calvin wasn’t sure he could handle it. So, after composing his thoughts, he moved on.

“He just...gets unbearable when he’s drunk. So whenever he comes home smelling like a sports bar, I sneak out.” A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed thickly. He studied their hands and drew slow circles on her palm. “There’s a, uh, foreclosed house several blocks away from mine. One of the garage windows doesn’t close all the way, and I’ve hidden some blankets and a pillow and other supplies in there.”

“You sleep in an abandoned garage?” Meg whispered.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Her hands squeezed his fiercely. Hot tears pricked in her eyes and when she spoke her voice shook with anger. “You shouldn’t have to do that!  _Stars_ , I wish you didn’t have to do that, Calvin.”

“But I don’t anymore,” said Calvin. He wiped a fallen tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I have a safe place to go now, remember?  _Here_. With you.” His lips curved into a tender smile, one that Meg couldn’t help but match.

She looked so  _pretty_  then—sitting on the island wearing an old brown cardigan, a smile on her face and the warm gleam of the kitchen lights giving her skin and hair an ethereal, starlike amber glow. He felt a hollow in his chest swell with a fond ache, and he wanted nothing more than for this moment, here, with her, to last forever.

  


* * *

 

The steady rhythm of rain and Meg’s heartbeat thrummed in time. Calvin was watching her, his pink lips bowed into a velvet smile. Sitting so near to him allowed Meg to see flecks of grey in his eyes, and she admired the way they crinkled in the corners. She had spent enough time with him in the past few weeks to know that his eyes only wrinkled like that when he was truly, genuinely happy.

Then, slowly, Calvin drew closer to her. Meg held her breath as his fingers hesitantly brushed her hair. When she leaned into his touch he seemed to gain confidence, and he ran his hand through her curls. His nails grazed her scalp near the nape of her neck and she shivered.

Abruptly Calvin pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” Meg breathed. She grasped the front of his hoodie— _her_ hoodie—and tugged him back close. “Don’t stop.”

Calvin obliged. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she sighed. His gaze flickered down to her lips and an eager thrill shot through her. When he began listing forward Meg beat him to it and kissed him full. Calvin laughed against her mouth, surprised, before kissing her back.

They had kissed twice the week before on the Murrys’ front porch, but those had been shy, reserved pecks. Now their kisses were longer, slower, a peculiar mix of curious and relishing.  


Meg leaned forward and wound her arms around Calvin’s neck. The unexpected shift unbalanced them and she nearly tilted off the island. Quickly Calvin caught her waist and took a step forward to stabilize her. His chest shook with soft laughter and Meg giggled, ducking her head and burying her face in his neck.

Calvin pulled out of the embrace just enough to be able to pluck Meg’s glasses off her face. “Wow,” he whispered, taking in her slightly altered appearance. “I’ve never seen you without your glasses before.”

Meg shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I can’t see without them. Everything gets fuzzy.”

“Well, you have gorgeous eyes,” Calvin murmured. He kissed her then, high on her cheek. “Look, keep on wearing your glasses, if you’d like. I don’t really think I want anyone else seeing what breathtaking eyes you’ve got. They’d start falling for you left and right.”  


A blush spread across Meg’s face and she smiled widely, tickled pink. She pressed her lips back to his in reply.

The brisk pattering of footsteps on the stairs caused them to startle apart. Calvin took several steps back and Meg slid off the island. When she turned she expected to see one or both of her parents and was instead surprised to see Charles Wallace.

The youngest Murry took in the scene before him—Meg without her glasses, Calvin’s wrinkled hoodie, both out of breath—and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Calvin shifted awkwardly while Meg scrambled to put on her glasses. “H-Hey, Charles Wallace. What’re you doing up?”

“I woke up to use the bathroom and saw that Calvin was gone. First I checked the attic”—Calvin started coughing and Meg flushed at that—“and when I found it empty I knew you were both down here. Plus, I smelled cocoa.”

He skipped over to the stove while Meg and Calvin exchanged small, sheepish smiles. By now the milk had grown lukewarm, and Charles Wallace deftly set to work reheating it. He even grabbed the mugs the two teens had abandoned and placed them in the microwave before turning his attention back to the simmering milk.

Walking up to him, Meg ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. “Thanks, Biscuits.”

“My pleasure,” Charles Wallace replied, stirring the milk slowly. Then he changed pace. “Hey Calvin, you like marine biology, right?”

Calvin leaned against the island. “I do, yeah. How’d you know?”

“You have a book on echinoderms in your backpack. Have you been to the Aquarium of the Pacific?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go.”

The boys continued to chat about the aquarium and ocean life while Meg handed them their mugs of cocoa and watched them with a softhearted smile.

Most people either thought Charles Wallace was a freak or an annoyance. When he was younger, people made crude and nasty jokes about him being a moron, simply because he didn’t talk. But when he began speaking in full sentences at age four after speaking nary a word previously, the tides shifted. He still didn’t speak much around others, and when he did people either felt unnerved by his intelligence or found him unbearably pretentious.

But with Calvin, it was different. From the moment he met her brother, Calvin had treated him with kindness and respect. He hadn’t been fazed by his intellect and expressed curiosity in Charles Wallace’s interests. Both boys were unreserved in their brotherly affection for each other, and Meg was beyond pleased that they shared such a comfortable and easy friendship.

Meg didn’t realize she was staring adoringly at Calvin until he said her name, mirth coloring his tone. “Meg? You okay?”

“Hm? Oh,” she let out a short, bashful laugh, bringing her mug to her lips to hide her smitten smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. Perfect.”

Charles Wallace looked between the two of them, an impish gleam in his eyes. “So, are you two boyfriend-girlfriend yet?”

Meg choked on her cocoa. Next to her Calvin tried not to smile, to no avail. He bit his lip and peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Well,” he said softly, “I’d sure like us to be.”

A giddy warmth spread through Meg’s chest and her heart skipped a beat. She shifted closer to Calvin and took his hand, threading her fingers through his. “I’d like that too.”

Calvin’s eyes crinkled and shone. He beamed at her, squeezing her hand and grazing his thumb across her knuckles.

“Glad we got that sorted out,” quipped Charles Wallace with a smirk. He downed the last of his cocoa and stood up. “Alright, love-birds, it’s a school night. Time to _actually_ go bed.” He grabbed Calvin’s hand and started dragging him away from Meg.  


“Wait,” Meg said. The boys turned around. She walked up to Calvin and looked pointedly at her brother. “Close your eyes, Charles Wallace.”

He rolled them first, but then obeyed. Once he had closed his eyes, Meg pulled Calvin down for one last kiss. It was slow and sweet and made her hum with pleasure.

“Would you hurry up?” Charles Wallace whined, stamping his foot impatiently.

Calvin smiled against Meg’s mouth before wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her closer in unabashed defiance of Charles Wallace’s request. He kissed her fiercely, and when they finally broke apart Meg swayed, dazed.  


“ _Hmph_ , kids these days,” grumbled Charles Wallace, before tugging a breathless Calvin out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Meg pressed two fingers to her lips and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


End file.
